


foundations of happiness

by green_piggy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 'bond can you stop writing slice of life fics' LMAOOOOOOOOOO No., 'bond how did this end up 5k+' Buddy I Wish I Could Tell You, Character Study, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Racism, No Spoilers, Slice of Life, and the audience sighs, and then i tag, anyway, byleth is in this fic but not enough to justify tagging them, fodlan sucks kiddos don't grow up there, im tagging all of this while listening to the megalovania remix save me, kind of a, look man i'm playing through black eagle rn and, they're all so fucking good, they're gals and they're pals but they're also in love!, they're so good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: Dorothea convinces Petra to try make-up for the first time in an attempt to destress, and to spend more time with one of her favourite people.





	foundations of happiness

**Author's Note:**

> nothing really much to say here lmaooooo dorothea and petra are so fucking Adorable i swear to GOD - we stan bi icons  
no spoilers in the fic! just two wonderful ladies very much in love and wanting to help each other out
> 
> i Really don't have anything to say so hope you enjoy! <3

Dorothea was eating dinner with Petra, and had absolutely _ not _been staring at her dreamily before she came up with a brilliant idea.

“Say, Petra, dear. Apart from those marks you have, do you ever wear make-up?”

Petra shook her head. She snapped a Noa fruit in half and fished the firm pulp out with a fierceness entirely unsuited for fruit gorging. “We have no need for make-up back in Brigid. Only what is required for these.” She drew a finger over the mark under her eye, leaving behind a trail of fruit juice.

“Oh, you're so messy. Here.” Dorothea leaned forward, handkerchief in hand, and dabbed away the mess. It was only when Petra's eyes slowly snapped to her, the barest of flushes on her cheeks, that Dorothea caught herself. “Ah - um—” A nervous giggle. “...I should have asked first, hmm?”

“No need for sorry—” Petra twisted her face. “Uh, apologises?”

“Apologies.”

_ “Apologies.” _Petra clenched her fist. “You need not say apologies.”

“Alright then, I won't.”

“You can…” Petra's face brightened. “You can be touching my face anytime.”

And Dorothea thought _ she _was a smooth talker. She found herself utterly tongue-tied, feeling her cheeks virtually exploding.

Petra was also blushing quite considerably. “I - _ apologise, _if I - if I was too strong?”

“No no no, I - I'm just—”

A quiet cough whirled both of their heads towards the other side of the table; Byleth had a small smile on their face, one that _ reeked _of mischief. “Am I missing something, ladies?”

“Nothing at all!” Dorothea squeaked.

Petra frowned. “How can you miss nothing? Nothing is not a thing, is it?”

“It's - it's not quite like that,” Dorothea said weakly. “B-but back to what I was saying earlier!”

“It's not like you to be so flustered, Dorothea,” came Byleth's demure voice. “Is something the matter?”

_ “Professor,” _she hissed.

Byleth's smile just widened. They stood and took their empty plate in their hands. “I'll leave you ladies to it. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Ah - you as well, Professor!” Petra called.

Dorothea just gave them the stink-eye.

“Dorothea,” Petra began, “that was not very good behaviour towards the professor. Why is that?”

“Ahhhh… it'd take too long to explain.” Dorothea waved her hand dismissively, squeaking when she accidentally hit her empty plate. Goddess, she was a _ disaster… _ “Anyway! Anyway. _ Anyway.” _

“...I know that word, Dorothea.”

“I didn't mean to insult you, I just—” Dorothea dragged her hands over her face, letting out a long, agonised huff. “Urgh! Make-up!”

When Dorothea didn't continue, because she was too busy trying not to die, Petra tipped her head. “...Yes? What about it?”

“You’re already beautiful, trust me, but everyone’s just been… so tense, lately.” Not that she could _ blame _them, of course - goddess knew she had trouble sleeping some nights - but it was impossible to go a single day without seeing huddles of frowning students or hearing barked commands of the increasingly stressed knights.

“I am not tense,” Petra said. “My muscles are as loose as ever.”

Well, that made _ one _ of them. “Not _ literally _tense, just - on edge. You know that saying?”

Petra nodded.

“I always find that just - messing around with make-up helps me destress. Maybe you might enjoy it?”

“Hmm…” Petra rested her hand around her chin. “I see little need for it, but… if it is an activity you enjoy, Dorothea, I would love to do it too!” She pumped her fists together. _ Goddess, _she was so adorable. “When shall we start?”

“After dinner, maybe? If you’re not busy.”

“For you, I am never busy. I would always rather be with you than anywhere else.”

_ Oh no, _ Dorothea internally thought. _ I’m going to melt. _

Externally, she melted.

“Awww, you’re _ such _a sweetheart!” Dorothea booped her nose with a little giggle. “Finish your meal and we’ll get going.”

“Ah - of course! I will not keep you waiting!”

True to her word, by the time Dorothea had returned from leaving off her plate, Petra had finished her own meal. She pulled Petra up by the hand with a little giggle, and it wasn’t until they’d returned to Dorothea’s room that she realised she hadn’t let go.

As discreetly as she could, Dorothea untangled her fingers from Petra’s, already missing that warmth as she pushed open the door to her room. Having their rooms next to one another was _ perfect _for little things like this.

“Now, then!” Dorothea pulled out the two chairs so that they were facing one another. “You sit yourself down, and I’ll go get some make-up. Do you want a cushion?”

“I am fine, thank you.” Petra sat down stiffly in the chair, hands clenching the edge of her skirt. When Dorothea glanced over to her, she gave a strained smile.

Dorothea pushed herself away and sat down opposite of her. “Petra, sweetheart. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No!” Petra caught both of them by surprise with her outburst. She drew back, looking embarrassed, gazing at the floor. Her fingers twisted her skirt. “I would love to! I am just… unfamiliar, with this.”

“If you’re _ sure.” _

Petra nodded. Dorothea squeezed her hands before standing up again and gathering her supplies.

As soon as she pulled out some foundation, she realised they had a not-so-insignificant problem.

“...Ah.”

“Is something the matter, Dorothea?”

“I, uh.” _ Goddess, _this was so embarrassing… how had she not realised sooner? “Foundation is the basic step of make-up. I, um, don’t have any in your skin tone.”

_ “...Ah.” _

“I’m so sorry, I _ really _should have realised sooner.” It just… wasn’t one of those things she’d ever had to think about. Now, though, it was so painfully obvious that she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

“You have no need to apologise,” Petra insisted, voice soft.

“We can do this another day, though!” Dorothea tried for a smile. “I’ll be in town tomorrow. I’ll pick some up for you then.”

“Dorothea, I mean this as a kind - ah, kindness, but…” Petra glanced away again. “...People like me, are not very common. Or liked. It may be - difficult. To find such a thing.”

“Oh, Petra…” Dorothea took her hand again. “Let me try at least, please? Don’t give up.”

“I am not giving up, I am admitting fact.”

“Petra…” She _ hated _hearing that tone of resignation, especially from someone as strong as Petra. Fódlan could be such a harsh place sometimes, in ways Dorothea never would have imagined.

“Perhaps,” Petra said softly, “make-up is - is not for people like me.”

“Don’t _ say _ such nonsense,” Dorothea spat. “I will find you some _ perfect _make-up. Everyone should be able to use it, and anyone who says otherwise is speaking pure crap!”

She exhaled deeply and forced her fists to unclench. She jolted when Petra’s hand rested over hers.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to get so heated up.”

Petra smiled. “It is fine. Would you… would you put this make-up on you? If it cannot go on me?”

“I… are you sure?”

A gentle squeeze. _ “Yes.” _

It wasn’t the same, though. _ It wasn’t the same. _

Tomorrow, she’d go into town, and she’d dig up all the cobblestones with her bare nails if it meant she got what she needed for Petra.

* * *

“You need _ what?” _

The stall owner stared at Dorothea as if she’d just cheerfully announced that the goddess wasn’t real. Swallowing back her discomfort, Dorothea widened her smile and put on her most sickening voice.

“A range of foundation tones,” she said ever-so-sweetly. “It’s just, I’ve heard nothing but _ wonderful _things about this little stall, so I thought you’d surely have what I need…”

“Don’t be _ absurd!” _ they spat. “As if I’d have anything for those - those _ beasts!” _

Dorothea blinked. She kept smiling, only because if she didn’t, she might just bring out her sword. Or snap someone’s arm. “Isn’t that a bit… much?” Her voice was extremely strained.

“Are you _ friends _ with any of them?” they hissed at her. “With those Almyran - _ monsters, _or those Duscur barbarians, or—”

“I only asked if you had what I needed.” Dorothea couldn’t stop the chill from creeping in her voice. “If you don’t, I’ll leave.”

“So you _ should.” _

“Oh, I will, don’t worry.” Dorothea smiled; she could feel her fists tightening. “I’ll make sure nobody ever steps foot inside of this establishment ever again. Not with someone as vile as you owning it.”

_ “W-what—” _

“Have a lovely day!”

Out of pure, petty spite, Dorothea made sure to ‘accidentally’ knock over a few of the most expensive bottles on her way out. Once she had gotten a good distance away and could no longer hear them yelling at her, she ducked underneath the cool shade of an oak tree and dug her hands into her hair.

How could - how could people be so _ ignorant? _ So _ stupid? _ So completely and utterly _ wrong? _ And this was - this was the sort of nonsense Petra and countless others had to deal with constantly!?

Of course, what she’d experienced was nothing compared to what they had to go through. Nothing at all.

She sunk onto an empty beach, thinking. She’d get that foundation if it was the last thing she ever did, but she doubted any vendors would be friendlier than _ that _bastard.

Was there anyone she could ask..?

Dedue didn’t wear make-up; _ goddess, _the mere thought of him with eyeshadow and lipstick on was enough to make her snort. Catherine didn’t, either. She was the kind of person who insisted she didn’t have time for make-up (and Lady Rhea didn’t wear make-up, and Catherine worshipped the very air she breathed).

Cyril…

Was fourteen. He didn’t look like he’d even _ heard _of make-up, much less wore it.

That left only one person who might be able to assist Dorothea with her current plight.

_ Urgh. _

Sighing to herself, Dorothea stood up and got to work.

Upon returning to the monastery, it didn’t take Dorothea long to find a suitable target; Lysithea was finishing off her dinner, shoving her face into a pile of ice-cream as Dorothea sat down next to her. Her eyes darted towards Edelgard’s retreating back, who’d been sitting next to Lysithea until just a few seconds ago.

She didn’t have much time. As soon as Lysithea turned to her, eyebrows raised, Dorothea dove in.

“Hello, Lysie. I just wanted to ask you a small favour.”

“What do you want?” Her face twisted. “And _ don’t _call me ‘Lysie’. I’m hardly a child.”

“Of course not! I didn’t mean that at all, I swear.” She glanced away shyly with a little bat of her eyelashes that made most people stumble over themselves in their haste to help her. “I just need a _ teeny _favour, and I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

“Hmph.” Lysithea frowned. It was somewhat ruined by the cream dotting the corner of her mouth. _ “Fine. _But be quick.”

“Aww, thank you!” Dorothea rested her hands in her lap. “Whereabouts would I find Claude at this time?”

She’d been expecting the suspicion, but certainly not the hint of protectiveness that flashed in Lysithea’s stiff eyes. “...Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothing major, I promise. I just need to ask him something.”

Dorothea gave her best smile, but Lysithea was an unflinching woman. Her eyebrows remained drawn, her gaze remained steely, and her mouth remained perfectly thin. Eventually, she sighed, shoulders sagging.

“As long as it _ isn’t _anything ‘major’,” she said, “then I suppose I can tell you. He’s very busy, though. Don’t annoy him.”

“Awww, how cute. I didn’t know you were so protective of him.”

“I’m _ not,” _ Lysithea bit out, her ears reddening. Her voice was slightly high-pitched. “Not in the _ slightest! _ He’s my house leader, is all. We’d _ all _be in trouble if anything happened to him.”

“Hmm-hmm. So?”

A huff. “Try his room. And send him down to get dinner when you’re done. I haven’t seen him eat all day. If he’s not there… try the library, but I’ve been there all day and he hasn’t been there.”

“Aww, I will do.” Grinning, Dorothea stood up and smoothed out her skirt. She ruffled Lysithea’s hair, laughing at her scowl as she yanked her head away. “Thanks, Lysie! You’re a real help.”

_ “Hmph. _Leave me alone already, if you would please.”

“Sure. See you later!”

She beamed and left the cafeteria with a spring in her step, ignoring the questioning look Edelgard threw her way as she returned to the table.

The sunset was starting to peek through the countless buildings and trees that dotted the monastery's exterior. The greenhouse was tinged a beautiful shade of red; it was softer than blood-red, not at all harsh, and she had to snap herself out of looking at the pretty flowers.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on the _ nobles _floor of the dormitories. Her heart pounded slightly in her chest, palms sweaty, as she ascended the stairs. She made sure to keep her head ducked low; it was irrational, she knew, but some mannerisms were difficult to break out of. Avoiding attention from nobles who thought they could put their filthy hands all over here, just because of where and what they were born into… it was something she was all-too-used to.

Hoping that she’d gotten the right room, she rasped on the door with her knuckles. Relief washed over her when Claude’s muffled voice shouted _ “give me a minute!”. _

After several faint thudding noises, the door opened. Claude smiled, a friendly thing that stretched his lips and only that. From what little Dorothea could see behind him, scattered books were tossed all over the floor.

“Ah - Dorothea?” He looked slightly perplexed, but still kept smiling. “Always a pleasure to see you. Something I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually.” She gave a smile from behind her hand. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it.” He let go of the door handle and stood up straight. He wasn’t much taller than her; a welcome change from being around boys as ridiculously tall as the ones in her house. “What do you need?”

“You wear make-up, correct? Foundation, at least. I notice it on you most days.”

A blink. “I do, but…” A small chuckle. “Sorry, you just - caught me by surprise, is all. Why are you asking _me _about make-up? Hilda’s a pro with it, if you need help._”_

“I’m trying to do a little favour for dear Petra.” Dorothea rested her hands behind her back. “I think it’d be a good way to destress, if we go a bit silly with make-up. But, well…”

Claude held his hand up. “Lemme guess. All the shopkeepers only have foundation as white as snow?”

“I wouldn’t quite put it like _ that, _ but yes.” She let out a small sigh. “It wasn’t even an issue that I’d considered could _ exist, _but when I asked the shopkeeper, they…” She rolled her eyes. “Well, they didn’t appreciate it, let’s just say.”

“Oh, trust me, I _ know.” _ Claude rested his hand on his forehead. “Even the _ concept _ of people existing from other countries is too much for them. And when people get confused, when they’re confronted with change, or anything or anyone that’s different? They get angry.” His face was so _ unlike _him - worn down and tired, eyes heavy - that Dorothea almost felt relieved when he smiled again, despite it failing to brighten those icy eyes at all. “Gah, enough of that. I’m just rambling. You want to know where I get my foundation from, I’m guessing?”

She realised, belatedly, that she’d just proven his exact point, but nodded. “Yes, please. If it’s not a bother.”

“I actually make it myself.” He winked. “Perks of being self-reliant and all that.”

“Oh…”

Claude rested his hand on his hip. “Want me to make some for Petra? It won’t be a problem.”

“O-oh!” Dorothea smiled, floored by such unexpected kindness - especially from a noble. “You could just tell me how to…”

“Nonsense,” Claude said breezily. “Gimme a square inch of her flesh and a couple of days and I'll get it to you.”

“Thank y- I'm sorry, _ what?” _

He burst into laughter at her face, wiping a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh, I kid. Your face is _ priceless, _Dorothea.”

“I _ hope _you’re joking… you lay a hand on her, you'll regret it.”

Claude held his hands up, grinning. “I won't, I won't! I’ve got a good eye, I’m sure I’ll make it right.”

“If you do, I'll make sure to make it up to you.”

“You don't need to do that.” He winked. “Seeing other people happy is more than enough for me.”

Perhaps he was teasing, but there was a certain sincerity in his voice that she couldn't ignore. “...Well, you're definitely one of the nicest fellas I've met in my time.” Dorothea giggled from behind her hand, beaming. “Thanks, Claudie.”

“...Claudie?” He rested a hand on top of his head. “Isn’t the whole point of nicknames for them to be shorter than a person’s actual name?”

“Maybe, but it’s hard to shorten a name like yours. And it’s cute, don’t you think?”

“Never thought I’d hear someone call me _ cute…” _Claude murmured. “Sure, why not?”

“I didn’t need permission, but thanks.” She smiled. “I’ll see you later - thanks again!”

“Hey, no problem. Swing by anytime you need something, yeah?”

Just as she went to leave, she paused and turned back on her heel. “Oh, Claudie?”

“Hmm?” He’d been closing the door behind him, but stopped and peeked his head out. “Something else you need?”

“I was talking to Lysie - Lysithea, my bad - earlier. She told me to send you down for dinner.”

“Aha, did she..?” Claude rubbed the back of his neck. “Soon. I just need to finish up something.”

“You know, for someone who claims to be so self-reliant, you’re not terribly great at looking after yourself, hmm?”

“Aww, c’mon, I wouldn’t say _ that…” _

He looked as if Dorothea had kicked a baby pegasus in front of him. She giggled. “I’m just teasing. But seriously; get some food soon, ‘kay?”

“I will. Thanks, Dorothea.”

His smile, small as it was, looked more genuine than any expression he'd given her so far. She couldn't help but smile back, before bidding farewell and going on her way.

* * *

Three days later, Dorothea awoke on a lazy Sunday morning to a small pot on her desk atop a piece of paper that read _ “from your dearest Claudie ;)”. _ She spent more than a few minutes staring at it in sleepy bewilderment, wondering _ how _she hadn't heard anyone creep into her room - especially at such a ridiculous hour.

Still, when she popped the lid open, she couldn't help but beam at the powder speckled inside. After she got ready, she got her make-up bag, dropped the pot into it, and went off to find Petra. She'd have to get Claude a little gift as a thank you.

On Sunday mornings, Petra favoured the outdoors. She liked to climb any trees she could find and admire the view and, on occasions when Seteth wasn't patrolling the grounds, indulge in a small bit of hunting. It wasn't Dorothea’s thing, personally, but Petra always did it in moderation and kept the most gruesome aspects of it away from Dorothea's eyes.

This particular time, however, Dorothea was spooked by a hand clasping her shoulder from behind. She whirled around, hand dropping to the dagger she kept under her skirt - and sighed dramatically in relief when she saw Petra.

“You _ scared _ me!” she breathed, resting a hand over her chest. “Try to make a _ bit _of noise next time!”

“Ah… apologies. It is hard for me to be loud.”

“Eh, it's fine.” Dorothea grinned. “Not like it's the first time you've done that. You'd think I'd be used to it by now!”

“You would, but you have talents in areas outside of my talents.”

“True, true…” Dorothea brightened. “Speaking of which; I actually wanted to get you!” She dangled the bag between both of them, grinning. “If you're not busy today, we can do make-up!”

“Dorothea…” Petra looked torn. “I would love to, but last time…”

“Just trust me, 'kay?” She rattled the bag. “Take a look!”

Raising her eyebrows, Petra nonetheless pulled open the bag, the palm of her hand brushing against Dorothea's fingers. It was warm yet rough, a comforting weight that she missed as soon as it left.

“Which one is…” Petra mimicked a patting motion on her cheeks. “That one?”

“Oh, foundation?”

“Yes! That is the one!”

“It’s the little dark blue bottle.”

It clinked against Petra's nails as she pulled it out. Still looking dubious, Petra popped open the stopper and peaked in.

Her naked joy was one of the most beautiful sights Dorothea had ever witnessed. Her face split open with a wide, disbelieving grin, as she looked up at Dorothea with sparkling eyes.

“This - this is-!” Her voice was excited beyond words. She glanced between the bottle and Dorothea, peering deep inside as if doing so would magically change its colour. “My skin!”

“Yep!” Dorothea rested her hands in front of her, unable to stop smiling. “Told you I could get - oft!”

Petra had engulfed her in a tight hug, the muscles of her arms crushing Dorothea's back. Her head rested on Dorothea's shoulder, and, for a second, she shook before letting go, still grinning.

“This is…” Her mouth flapped open and shut. “This is the most kind thing anyone has ever done for me! _ Thank you, _Dorothea! Thank you so very much!”

Tears - _ tears - _ were starting to prick her eyes. Dorothea smiled, her vision going a little bit misty. “Petra, you are _ so, so _welcome.”

“We must do it at one - ah, at _ once!” _Petra clutched the bottle in her fist as if she had found a treasure rarer than gold. “There is a dry spot, under a tree I like. If you - want to, we could do it there.”

“I would_ love _ to. Please, lead the way.”

Perhaps it was giddiness, but Petra's calloused hand tangled around Dorothea's own and tugged her along, showing a rare enthusiasm that caught Dorothea in its grasp. The world seemed a little kinder; the sky a bit brighter than usual, a brilliant blue against the puffs of white clouds. Sunshine peeked through the leaves almost shyly, unsure of their place in the world.

Dorothea, for once, was certain of hers.

Petra led her, both of their footsteps light, to a secluded spot near a fence overgrown with shrubbery and twisting vines. It'd been a dry day thus far, and so the patch under the tree wasn't at all damp.

Letting go of her hand, Petra thudded to the ground, legs crossed, beaming up at Dorothea with a smile that could rival the sun.

Despite popular assumptions, Dorothea didn't mind getting rough and dirty; the goddess knew she'd finished most opera performances with tears in her sweat-soaked outfits and every one of her muscles aching. She just didn't enjoy the _ battlefield, _unlike so many of the blood-thirsty people in her house.

She could understand Petra's stance on it, to a degree. She never took _ joy _in murder; it was a fact of life. People and beasts alike died, both naturally and of other causes. There was no happiness to be found in the simple cycle of life.

“Dorothea?”

“Sorry.” Dorothea smiled. “Was just lost in my silly thoughts.” She took Petra's offered hand and sat down on the ground, laying her bag in front of her.

“I would not call them silly.” Petra squeezed her hand before letting go. “I would listen to them with gladiness - uh, _ gladly _ \- any time.”

“Keep saying sweet things like that and I'll melt,” Dorothea teased. She whipped out a brush and several other little pieces. “But we'll discuss that another time, maybe. Now, I just want to focus on this!”

“If you are sure.” Up this close, it was impossible to miss Petra's dimples - her _ dimples! _ Goddess, they were adorable. _ She _was adorable.

“Of course!” Dorothea smacked her brush in the air for dramatic effect. She tickled Petra's cheek with the ends of it, laughing when she scrunched her nose and shook her head away from it. “Now - gimme that bottle and we'll get right to work!” Her voice softened. “I'll make sure not to cover that mark of yours.”

“Dorothea…” Petra broke out into yet another smile. Dorothea’d seen her smile more times today than she usually did in a month. “Thank you!”

Petra thrust her head out and squeezed her eyes shut, lips pursed slightly. “...Is this how you do it?”

How to do _ what, _Dorothea wasn't quite sure, but she just looked - precious. So very precious. She smiled.

“It'll… do.” Dorothea popped the top off the bottle and sprinkled out some powder. “Now, let's get to work! If you don't mind, I might have to unbutton the top of your shirt and push it down a bit. Powder on white clothing is _ impossible _to get rid of.”

“Ah… of course.” Petra's deft fingers were quick to undo the buttons. She pushed the blouse off her shoulders; it was intimate, somehow, and Dorothea blushed when those strong naked shoulders came into view. Petra seemed completely at ease, a sight rarer than a golden fish in the monastery pond. Dorothea felt… privileged, seeing a sight precious few others got to see.

“Thanks. Now let's get started…”

With the sun shining perfectly on Petra's face, highlighting her long lashes from her shut eyes, it was a good a time as any to look at her closely.

Petra had countless blemishes on her skin - like a tiny scar just above her left eyebrow, or a burn on her right shoulder that had never fully healed, or the clean cut of an axe a bit below her shoulder blades - but anyone who said that beauty was flawless was wrong. A person’s beauty, Dorothea felt, _ came _from their scars, from their bruises, from all the imperfections that were dotted across their body. She’d spent long enough in the opera to know that beauty didn’t come from porcelain skin and knife-sharp lips. It came from their goofy laughs, their wonky smiles, their little quirks and charms that made each and every single person so unique.

Make-up, to her, was just a way of destressing. A way to change yourself temporarily and be able to laugh and wipe it off at the end of the day. It was never meant to conceal that which shouldn’t be covered. She’d sworn off wearing it too much when she came to the academy; yes, she’d been looking to marry into fortune, but she refused to accept a partner who wouldn’t accept _ her _at her worst.

And, well…

Looking at the wonderful woman sitting in front of her, Dorotha couldn’t really do any better. Even if she could, she wouldn’t want to.

Hopefully these quiet, peaceful days could last for many years to come.

It didn't feel _ right _caking Petra with make-up, but she'd been so excited for it… sighing softly, Dorothea made herself start.

True to Claude's word, the powder was the perfect shade for Petra's skin, blending in flawlessly as she carried on. She was careful to keep any speckles of it away from the mark curling under her eye.

Petra just seemed to _ sag _under her touch, becoming more and more relaxed as she continued. By the time Dorothea was done, she had to - very gently - swat her cheek to ensure she hadn't dozed off.

“Ah - what is the matter?” Petra blinked several times rapidly, reaching a finger up to rub at the sleep in her eye.

“Careful not to touch any of your face!”

Petra froze.

“...Your eye _ should _be fine, though. But only there!”

She very slowly grazed her eye with her finger, staring at Dorothea the entire time.

_ So cute… _

When she pulled it away, she spoke. “Are you finished?”

“Yep!” Dorothea dove into her bag. When her nails gently tapped against the cover of her hand mirror, she pulled it out and flipped it open. “You wanna see?”

“Please!”

Dorothea held up the mirror in the palm of her hand, balancing it so that Petra could look at herself without the sun obscuring the view. Petra leaned forward and shuffled into a kneeling position. She pushed the mirror back ever-so-slightly, peeking at herself with approving eyes. Brushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail, Petra hummed.

“It… looks different. But good!” she hurriedly added when Dorothea felt her face fall. “I would not mind you doing it again! Just… not all the days.”

“Well, you don't _ need _to wear it all the time,” Dorothea said. “It's just nice to have a little change, don't you think?”

“It is!”

Dorothea giggled. “I used to wear it all the time, when I was younger, but… I just grew out of it, I suppose.” She let the mirror rest on her knee. “I find that people who wear it daily… they tend to have something to hide.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Eyebags, wrinkles, scars… any number of things.”

Petra cocked her head. “Why would a person want to hide such things? Everyone has them. Is it not part of being human?”

“Some people don't want to be seen as anything less than perfect, I suppose.” A mirthful chuckle. “I… used to be one of those people. Still am, sometimes. On bad days, I just - wanna slap on as much make-up as possible and pretend I look pretty.”

“I would only want you to be yourself,” Petra said with a strong fierceness better suited to the battlefield. “You are… a wonderful person. And you do not need to pretend to be what you already are.”

“Ah…” Dorothea rested a hand over her mouth, as if that would help stop the trembling in her voice. “That… that means more than you realise. Thank you, Petra.” She glanced away. “I hope I can believe you, one day. Sincerely.”

A warm hand grasped her own. “I know you will. And I…” Petra frowned. “...I will be for you.”

“Aww.” Dorothea giggled. “Did you mean ‘be _ there _ for me’?”

“Ah…” Petra blushed. “Yes. My apologies.”

“Hey, you said that right!” Dorothea grinned. “See, you're improving every day!”

“Ah…” Petra held her free hand to her mouth, smiling. “Thank you, Dorothea. May I… may I ask another favour?”

“Of course!”

“May I… try it on you?”

“Oh? Try what?”

Petra gently slapped her cheeks. “The - ah! The foundation!” She flushed. “I am not much good, but… I would very much love to try!”

“Aww, of course!” Dorothea handed the bag over to her. “Just go for it. Don't stress about it!”

Nibbling at the corner of her lip, Petra hummed in thought as she looked over everything in it..

Dorothea had learnt over the years that true happiness was often found in the quiet, insignificant little moments that mattered to very few. The type that never made it into any history books or recollections for future generations.

As she sat there, basking in the sunlight, Petra sang a small tune to herself in words Dorothea didn't know. Dorothea shut her eyes to the beautiful sound of her voice and gentle tip-taps of her brushes and make-up, chest warm with a love she felt all-too-rarely, knowing this was going to be one of those moments.

**Author's Note:**

> *dabs* check out [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles) 3h/golden deer central atm, but aren't we all in 3h hell right now
> 
> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed~ kudos and comments are always super duper awesome and help keep your local writer going!


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